


Another Ship(ment) at Top Volume

by TrixieBastard



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 00:30:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2448698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrixieBastard/pseuds/TrixieBastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Easily the weirdest thing I've ever written, and quite possibly the weirdest I will ever write. Even I don't have any words for whatever this is, lol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Ship(ment) at Top Volume

The clerk was unboxing the latest shipment of  _Definitely Maybe_  when the bell above the door tinkled. He caught a familiar shape in the doorway and turned towards the newcomer.

 

“How’s it?” he asked, as he always did. The tall girl gave him a smile and a “heya” in return before she made her way towards the Britpop section, as she sometimes did. Other times, she would make a beeline for the New Wave corner or would wander dangerously close to classic rock territory. Overall, she was a Britpop girl, though, and the clerk figured he knew what she was looking for today.

 

He held up a copy of the Oasis album and called over to her. “Looking for this?”

 

She cast a glance over her shoulder, her fingers paused above the tray of CDs she’d been flipping through. “Dunno, what is it?”

 

“ _Definitely Maybe._ ”

 

She laughed. “Yeah, okay, I definitely came here for that. Maybe.” As she realized what she'd said, her cheeks pinkened and her eyes darted away in embarrassment, like she was ashamed of her joke. He gave her an appreciative chuckle as she turned her attention back to the rack, but it didn't seem to set her at ease. “I’m just gonna keep looking here for a bit though, thanks.”

 

Leaving her be, the clerk held aside a copy for her, and one for another favorite customer of his that he knew would want one. Unbeknownst to any of his coworkers (or anybody at all), the clerk liked to pair up his regular customers in his head. First there was the lady who loved 1940’s jazz and the man whose favorite artist was Artie Shaw. Then came a nerdy-looking guy who liked acoustic cover bands and a willowy brown-haired girl who had a thing for Duncan Sheik and The Cardigans (though the clerk had another option for the nerdy kid, as the clerk thought he’d clocked the kid checking out a lad once. If that was the case, there was a tall ginger sensitive type that seemed like he’d be a good match). But mostly there were his two favorite customers. One was the tall girl currently racing through the same CDs she looked at last week, vainly hoping there was something new in the second-hand section. The other was a kid who, for all intents and purposes, seemed like the male version of the girl. More often than not, when one would buy a new CD, the other would get a copy of their own. They had similar styles, similar tastes, both had an obvious deep-seated love of music… they’d be perfect together.

 

The clerk’s mental machinations were interrupted by the girl approaching the counter. She handed him a beat-up copy of David Bowie’s  _Heroes,_ which he took out of the case. He made a  _hmph_  of disappointment before returning it to its plastic shell.

 

“It’s a bit scratched. If it doesn’t play, bring it back and we’ll find something else for ya.” At her nod, he rang up the Bowie and the Oasis, slipping her receipt into the bag. She thanked him and walked towards the door, pausing expectantly as she put her hand on the push plate. She looked at him with an arched eyebrow, which puzzled him until a light went off in his head.

 

“Oh yeah. Save me job, you will,” he said quietly, to her amusement. Raising his voice to a notch above normal, the clerk gave her the mandatory shop farewell. “Thanks for shopping at Top Volume, where something new is always spinning!” He rolled his eyes at her and got a grin in return before she left. As she exited, her destined partner walked in, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. The clerk wondered how she’d not even given him a second look. Didn’t she know? Couldn’t he feel it? The clerk knew the universe’s ways of saying, "hey, you two lunkheads, get together," and the universe had become insistent in regards to these two.

 

Despite that, the clerk never saw the two of them in the store at the same time. The jazz lady and the Artie Shaw guy had in fact become an item, so the clerk knew he couldn’t possibly have misread the signs regarding the leather jacket-wearing pair. The signs were all there --  _why wasn't this happening yet_?

 

Much to his disappointment, the girl disappeared for quite a while. To the clerk, it seemed that while she was missing in action, the kid seemed glummer than usual. He’d always been moody, but the clerk felt a distinctive dip in the lad’s bearing. He felt bad for the kid, and was always saving aside recommendations for him to try to make up for his obvious pining (even if he didn’t know he was pining. But that’s definitely what it was.  _Soul pining_ ).

 

The clerk had nearly given up on the girl returning at all when she walked in, four months later. His eyes grew big as saucers as he greeted her overenthusiastically. “And just where have you been?” he asked after he had walked over with outstretched arms. She’d not gone in for a hug, but he was fine with it. His boss would have looked down on it anyway, the grumpy sod.

 

“Er, France,” she answered, looking at him with sunken eyes. She didn’t appear as one freshly home from holiday should look, but the clerk let the remark slide. He could be brash, but he certainly wasn’t  _rude_.

 

“Welcome home then!” he grinned, stepping back behind the counter. “I’d been saving a couple of albums for you in case you came back,” he announced, pulling a stack out from his stash spot under the counter. Her stack had never been as big as the lad’s, but it was still sizeable. She looked through them, accepting some and discarding others, leaving with three of the discs. The clerk was shelving the rest of them when the bell dinged and the boy walked in, looking better than he had since March (or at least it seemed so to the clerk).

 

“Ah, you seem happier today. I saw that your friend is back from France,” the clerk ventured. He was too curious at this point and  _needed_  to know if his destined pair knew each other, regardless of that silent passing months ago. His heart sank when the boy frowned at him.

 

“What friend?”

 

“Uh, must have been thinking of a different customer. Anyway, I’ve got that Smiths vinyl you wanted.” Consternated, the clerk left the pile of unshelved CDs behind and went to retrieve the vinyl. 

 

Once the boy was out of the store, the clerk sighed heavily. He knew he was sensitive to what the universe wanted, and it wanted those two together. He’d had the same feeling when he’d first seen his own girlfriend, and look where they were (together four years this June). Jazz Lady and Shaw Guy were still going strong. The clerk knew his stuff, there could be no doubt... right?

 

Later that night he went home and looked at his girlfriend and asked the universe to give them the kind of love he felt for her. As he asked, he felt a lightness in his being, and a sense of certainty fell over him. All this time, and all he'd had to do was ask aloud.  _The universe is a silly thing_ , he mused, shaking his head. _Guess it just needs a push sometimes, even to fulfill its own wishes._

 

By now, the clerk was so certain that things were going to happen that when his duo of destiny walked in together for the first time, he managed to contain his excitement. He steadfastly looked elsewhere as they argued music, doing his best not to gaze at them like a lovestruck deer. He pretended the shake of excitement was not in his fingers as he slipped their receipt into the blue bag emblazoned with the Top Volume logo, and he was 99% certain he’d managed to keep his eyes from misting up as they thanked him. Whether they were thanking him for the CD or for silently willing them together, the clerk wasn’t sure, but either way, he’d been happy to serve.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to warn you.


End file.
